


Not Just You

by happilyinsane13



Series: Our Connection is a Miracle [8]
Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Drama, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 14:27:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4308633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happilyinsane13/pseuds/happilyinsane13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her new identity as a mother is hard for Kala to grasp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Just You

           Kala wrinkled her nose at the array of prenatal pills in her hands. She took her index finger and curved it to roll one large, white pill across her palm. It softly hit the other pills, a soft clack echoed in her ears. Wolfgang was on her hospital bed sitting behind her, his right knee pressed against her hip, his foot resting against his left thigh as his other leg dangled off the bed. A black hair tie was protruding from the corner of his mouth, his jaw ticking. Her curly black hair was gathered in a great mass in his hands. He cocked his head to the side, contemplating how to construct the first ponytail he had ever made.

            “I hope I don’t vomit these back up,” she said, frowning as she eyed the pills in distaste.

            Wolfgang mumbled something, the hair tie blocking his speech.

            “Aswongathu…”

            “Stop there,” Kala said. “You can’t do hair and talk at the same time, obviously.”

            He shot her a playful glare and shrugged his shoulder in Felix’s direction by the window. Felix was bent over the chair by the bed with a black bag in it where he was rummaging around for Kala’s clean clothes. She was being discharged that day and Felix would later claim he had been dragged along. Without missing a beat he said, not looking up from the bag, “The doctor said you just need to drink a lot of water. He’s given us other medication. You need bed rest, and we need to schedule either an induced labor or a C-section for your due date.”

            Wolfgang used his right ring finger to gently flick the back of Kala’s neck as if to say, ‘See, he’s useful for something.’

            Kala giggled. Wolfgang pulled her hair up high and gathered it all in his left hand and pulling out the hair tie with his right. Her curly hair tangled in his hands and he tried his best not to tug on it too tightly.

            “Now take your pills,” he said.

            She rolled her eyes and reached out her hand and, on cue, Felix placed a glass of water in her hand. She popped the pills into her mouth one by one, taking a swig of water with each capsule. She fought her gag reflex on one she could only compare to a horse pill, and Wolfgang lost some of her hair as her head jerked forward as he had tried to fix the hair tie around her thick hair one more time. She glanced back at him and he shrugged.

            “Messy is the new sexy, right?”

            Felix snorted.

 

            Wolfgang came home a week later to Kala kneeling in front of a small idol of Ganesha on the dresser on her side of the bed. Her legs were tangled in the sheets and technically she towered above the tiny figure of the elephant god, and yet her shoulders quavered as if she was gazing at a giant. Her hands were together and she was praying earnestly.

            “Kala, what’s bothering you?” he asked, striding across the room to sit beside her. “You pray, when you’re bothered.”

            “Or when I’m blessed. The gods will not consider begging for help to be true devotion.”

            “But you’re asking for help.”

            Kala sighed and lowered her hands. She carefully turned her body to face him, her palms pressed against the cool grey sheets.

            “Begging for the courage to tell my parents.”

            “Ah.”

            “If running away from my wedding to be with another man wasn’t enough,” Kala said, shaking her head and lowering her eyes. “A child out of wedlock in Hinduism is… not welcomed.”

            “It’s not welcomed in most religions,” Wolfgang said. “But cultures, civilizations, are starting to move past it. Not everyone is kind but it is not as hopeless as it used to be.”

            Kala gave a weak nod but she still couldn’t look up at him. Wolfgang sighed and leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on the top of her head. He placed a hand on her shoulder. His palm was hot against her cold, smooth skin. It was now mid-September and starting to get cooler. Come October it would get much colder than what she was used to, and the heating in the apartment was shit.

            “Let me go look in the laundry for a sweater or something,” he said, getting up and walking out of the bedroom. He looked at her as he walked out the door, his fingers trailing across the doors rough wooden surface as he past it.

            When he was out of sight Kala felt a new weight beside her on the bed.

            “How’s our baby?” Lito asked, his hands clasped in his lap, bending his head down to look into Kala’s tired face.

            “Okay,” Kala said, not fully confident in her answer. “If only I could tell more people about him… or her.”

            “If you don’t you’re going to spend all of your time worrying, and that means that the little babe inside you will worry as well. We don’t want that. That’s a life. _Our_ life.”

            “Hinduism does not approve of a child born out of wedlock. Or conceived out of wedlock for that matter.”

            “And Catholicism does not approve of homosexuality,” Lito said, spreading his hands wide as if to frame his magnificence and all the makes him Lito. “But here I am.”

            There was a brief silence.

            “You haven’t told the world, and I understand that. But did you ever tell your family?”

            Lito’s eyes became sad.

            “My mother knows,” he said. “She prays everyday about it.”

            “Your father?”

            “He died, before I ever told him.”

            Kala reached out to cover his knee with her slender hand.

            “You know,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “When he died one of the first things I thought was, ‘Thank God he never had to find out his son was a fag.’ I thought it when he received his Last Rites. I thought it while he exhaled his last breath on his deathbed. I thought it during the funeral. I thought my father’s heart had been protected. I thought my identity as a son had been protected because, I believed, if I told him, he would strip that title away from me.” Lito looked up into Kala’s eyes and leaned in so close that their noses touched. “For years I thought I had dodged a bullet. I thought my identity as my father’s son and as a gay man were somehow mutually exclusive. I could not be gay and be my father’s son and vice versa. But that’s not true. I’ll never know how my father would have felt. He may have disowned me. Maybe we would’ve hated each other, renounced each other. Or maybe he would have supported me. But now I know that no matter what happens, neither identity can be stripped from me. I will be loyal to myself and who I want to be. I should’ve told my father so I could’ve given myself the chance to truly be who I am.”

            “My identity?”

            Lito smiled softly.

            “You are not just you,” Lito said. “You are a sensate. Wolfgang’s lover. Your parents’ daughter. And mother of a child,” he reached out a hand to twirl a strand of Kala’s hair with his finger. “Your parents may support you. Your parents may disown you. But never forget you own your own identity. You will still be their daughter and you can cherish what that once meant. You can spit on it. But it is yours to do with as you will. And your identity as a mother, well,” he smiled. “That can never be taken away.”

            He kissed her forehead, his lips soft and suddenly he was gone. There was a large cardigan hanging off of her shoulders and Kala’s brown eyes were staring into bright blues ones.

            “Mother of our child.”

            “Father of our child.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry this is so short, but the next few installments are made with a sort of theme in mind, making them shorter than some of my previous installments. Hope you like it. :)


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